Brownies
by lessa4
Summary: Beybladers and cooking just aren't supposed to mix, especially when you lover is just waiting for you to fail miserably KaiTala


Oh yeah. So a couple days ago, Lessa had a chocolate craving that needed to be indulged. What was the first thing I did? Make brownies of course. Mmm brownies. While they were baking, my friend came over and started laughing at me because I had chocolate batter all over my face (Yes, I licked the spoon.) as well as my . . . chest . . . area . . . because my mixer enjoys throwing batter at me. And, of course, her mind constantly being in the gutter, asked why I had called her, not my lover who would have been more than happy to lick it all off. And so, I developed a brainchild. Amen.

Standard disclaimers, and this is a real recipe, so you are welcome to it.

"Betcha can't."

"Hn."

"See? You can't. It just isn't possible. No matter how good a Bey Blader you are, the Great Kai Hiwitari cannot cook."

"Oh yes the Great Kai Hiwitari can."

Tala just grinned, settling himself on a barstool at the kitchen island. Propping his chin on his hands, he watched as the slate-haired teen on the other side of the counter studied the cookbook he held, eyes narrowed in concentration. "D'you want a dictionary to help you translate?"

Magma eyes lifted from the text to glare at him. A delicate eyebrow lifted and he pivoted, turning his gaze on the oven. Punching a few buttons until the appliance turned on with a beep, he twisted the knob on its face until it read 350 F. He stared at it a moment longer, positive that it would submit to his will like a good machine.

Turning back to the counter, he gingerly placed the book on it before ducking to the cabinet underneath. Popping back into sight, he set a bowl on the linoleum surface, then a measuring cup, measuring spoons of various sizes, a brownie pan and one gigantic mixing spoon. Muttering ingredients to himself, he strove to ignore the smirk that Tala continued to send his way.

"One half cup butter or margarine, two squares unsweetened chocolate, one cup sugar, two eggs, one tsp . . . Tisp? Whatever. One tsp vanilla, three fourths cup all-purpose flour. Grease eight by eight by two inch pan. Melt butter and chocolate, remove from heat, stir in sugar. Add eggs and vanilla, beat lightly just till combined. Stir in flour and one half cup chopped walnuts, if desired. Spread batter into pan and bake at three-fifty for thirty minutes. Fine."

Side-stepping to the stove, he turned the burner on, thunking a saucepot on the heating surface. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a package of butter and tore it open. His face fell as four sticks of hard yellow _stuff_ tumbled into his hands. How was he supposed to know how many sticks of butter made half a cup? He glared at the paper-wrapped butter for a minute, silently berating them for making his job so difficult.

"Kai . . ." Tala tried hard not to snicker.

"I don't need any help, thanks." He refused to let Tala get the better of him in this. So he unwrapped all four sticks, putting them in the glass measuring cup. He then deposited said measuring cup in the microwave, hitting the 'thirty seconds' button three times.

While his butter was melting, Kai stalked over to the pantry, yanking out a box that read 'Hershey's Baking Chocolate' and pulled out two of the little one ounce squares. Unwrapping these as well, he tossed them into the saucepan to await the butter.

Tala watched with barely contained mirth as Kai practically danced in place waiting for the butter to melt. His hands moved from propping his chin to cover his mouth, hiding his growing grin.

The microwave beeped, and Kai snatched the door open, pulling out the measuring cup, some of its contents spilling over to splash on the floor.

The thick golden liquid just hit the mark that read two cups. Ergo, one stick of butter was half a cup. He stored that in the back of his mind for future reference. Not that he _ever_ planned on doing this again.

Dumping one and a half cups of the melted butter down the drain, he poured the other half cup into the saucepan with the melted chocolate, stirring them together vigorously. Leaning over to read the recipe, he turned off the burner, moving the pan to a cool one.

Turning around again, he pulled the tall Tupperware container full of sugar out of a cupboard and put it on the counter next to the stove. Scooping a measuring cup into the container, he leveled it out to one cup, up-ending it over the pan. Lifting his spoon again, he whisked it in little circles until he was left with a gooey, brownish blob.

Placing the pot on the counter, he rummaged about before emerging with an egg in each hand. Cracking the shells on the edge of the pot, he broke them open, watching solemnly as clear glop with yellow centers dropped into the brown. Before taking up his spoon again, he fished his fingers into the mess, carefully removing the tiny white fragments that had fallen in as well.

His hand paused over the batter. He was missing something. Damn. The 'tisp.' How did one go about finding what the hell a 'tisp' was! Dropping the spoon back into the bowl, he jerked the silverware drawer open, looking at jumbled cutlery and measuring cups. No help there. Grasping the cookbook, he flipped to the back, the section under "Emergency Substitutions." 'Emergency' was in italics, so all logic pointed to looking under that section. Kai's pride was at stake, after all.

And there under the heading of cake flour, was 'substitute one cup cake flour with one cup minus three teaspoons (tsp) of all purpose flour.' Reaching into the drawer, Kai groped around for a spoon, and pulling it out, filled its bowl with the sickly-sweet smelling vanilla extract.

All the while, Tala held tightly to his stomach, trying vainly to hold in his laughter in attempt to get rid of his cramps.

Going back to where he had found the sugar, Kai removed the flour container from its shelf, painstakingly measuring out three one-fourth cups of the stuff. He mixed all of the ingredients into one final sludge of brown before checking the recipe. 'One half cup of chopped walnuts, if desired.' Well, he didn't desire. Lately, nuts made him feel self-conscious.

Belatedly turning the burner off, he carefully lifted the pot from its resting place, carrying it by the handle to the other counter, where his ready-to-be-greased pan awaited him.

So intent was he on his goal that he failed to notice the spot of butter that he had spilled earlier.

And let me indulge you, dear readers. Half-hardened butter is a very slippery substance. So the Unfair Laws and Regulations of the Universe therefore demand that one Kai Hiwitari, after so much migraine-inducing labor must put his foot directly in said spot.

And topple over backwards with a yell of "SHIT!"

. . . Spilling the entire contents of his pot all over himself and the floor.

Kai just lay on his back for a minute, trying to absorb what had just happened. The pot clattered to the ground, no longer supported by his limp fingers. Closing his eyes, he groaned softly.

"Kai?" Tala's voice was concerned, but the other Russian could hear the tiny undertone of a giggle in his voice.

"Not a word Ivanov. Do you hear me? Not a single bloody word."

Tala complied, silently sliding off his stool and coming over to kneel next to his fallen comrade. Leaning over his prone form, Tala's tongue slipped out, neatly licking some batter off a blue-painted cheek.

"Not bad." He grinned, taking another taste.

Grabbing Tala's bangs, Kai pulled him closer, kissing him soundly (or to stop the sound, whichever you prefer). "If I let you clean me up, do I still win the bet?"

Pink lips curled upwards seductively. "Deal."


End file.
